Oswald the Ottoman
by lunakatrina
Summary: Voldemort never saw this coming! Harry aquires an ottoman...AU, ignores DH and most of HBP for it's own sanity
1. The Birth of Oswald

...I'm not sure how this happened, I just remember seeing a curse similar to the one Harry uses on Voldemort and then bam! crack! But I think this is crazy funny, highly improbable, and just general strangeness on my part

Snape is awesome in this chapter

I do not own Harry Potter or anything assoicated with it, trust me, you'd know if I did

Oswald the Ottoman

Chapter One: The Birth of Oswald

"Well, it's not really my fault—no one really told me what to do, so I just winged it," Harry rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the small leather ottoman and added, "At least Voldemort's finally out of commission."

The ottoman jumped up and tried to head butt Harry's leg. Harry moved out of the way and stepped down onto the small footrest and threatened, "If you don't stop I'll rip off your upholstery!"

The Order stared in horror, except for Snape who was still snickering somewhere near the wall. Harry cleared his throat and picked up the kicking ottoman, adding, "Well, kind of out of commission…"

"What are you going to do with him—that?" Mrs. Weasley asked slowly.

"I hadn't really thought that far ahead," Harry replied slowly, "I mean, it's not really going to hurt anyone like this, except maybe bruise a few shins and step on a few toes…"

"Harry," Hermione said firmly and slowly, like she was talking to a retarded two year old, "it's evil."

"It's an ottoman!"

Said ottoman kicked him in the side, Harry threw it on the ground and it lay there for a few moments before dragging itself behind the headmistress's desk. Snape's muffled snickering picked up at this sight.

"See," Harry said brightly, as he rubbed his side, "harmless. Just needs a little love."

"Love?" Hermione echoed, "It's Voldemort! Turned into a piece of furniture!"

"Do you have something against furniture?" Harry demanded.

"I have something against Voldemort!"

"Harry," Ginny spoke up, "I just have to say that if you don't get rid of…that, then we're going to have to have a serious conversation."

Harry blinked in confusion and then realized what she meant and demanded, "It's just a little footstool!"

Said footstool came running out from behind the desk, ready for attack! Harry tripped it and stepped down on top of it; it fought for a moment and then gave up, a leg jerking every so often. Snape snorted and turned to the wall, continuing his laughing.

"An evil footstool!"

"Do you even know how ridiculous that sounds?" Harry asked her, as Snape's sharp chortles of laughter only proved his point. "Besides if you want to break up with me over a piece of furniture then you have some problems."

"Harry, that's Voldemort! He killed your parents!"

"Yeah, and I turned him into an animated ottoman, tell me that's not the best punishment ever." Harry grinned and the ottoman began kicking furiously once more, "Besides it's not like it's a couch or something, if it was then I'd do something, but as it is, it's kinda cute and why not make the man suffer? I think he deserves all the ottoman time he gets."

"What are you saying, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked bright red spots on each cheek.

"I'm going to keep it," Harry declared.

Exclamations of outrage filled the room and Snape murmured, reverently, "This is the best day of my life."

* * *

Harry released the ottoman down onto the floor of his dorm and it immediately set out, exploring the room. 

Neville stared at it, and asked, "That's…"

"Voldemort, yes," Harry agreed. "Don't worry about him killing you in your sleep or anything though, he can't jump very high."

Neville paled.

"That's good," Harry informed him, "he can't get onto our beds."

Voldemort slunk underneath a desk, presumably laying in wait for a perfect chance to attack. Harry reached up the desk and pulled the protesting footrest out, its wooden legs scratching and clunking against the floor.

"And I'll get some of those felt chair leg cover things to keep him from making too much noise," Harry added, holding it away from him, the legs kicking urgently in the air.

"Is it dangerous?" Neville asked slowly, looking at the ottoman warily.

"I wouldn't get out of bed in the middle of the night without checking the floor for him," Harry replied, "but he can't do more than trip someone…or step on your toes."

"That's…weird."

"Yeah, maybe we should install nightlights so we don't have to remember to light our wands when we're tired and half asleep," Harry murmured. Voldemort's legs were still kicking, but now in tandem so he looked like an overgrown, under-legged centipede. Harry watched it for a few moments before informing him: "You look ridiculous."

The legs fell limp.

"Is he going to stay up here?" Neville asked, "I mean, like a pet…ottoman?"

"Yeah, probably have to get a chain or something, keep him from escaping," Harry agreed, studying Voldemort appraisingly. "And we'll have to lock the door; Hermione's been looking at him funny."

"So we're protecting him?"

"Don't think of it as Voldemort, think of it as a leather upholstered Chihuahua," Harry replied, "Maybe we should name him something else, you know, not Voldemort…"

"I always liked the name Oswald," Neville replied brightly.

The ottoman kicked wildly in protest.

"I find it oddly suiting," Harry agreed. "Oswald the Ottoman. Exactly what you've been working for your entire life, right? But seriously Neville, this thing will probably try to trip you so watch your step…and if he tries anything, just step on him."

"Oswald the Evil Ottoman," Neville said with a smile and Harry flashed him a grin and set said ottoman down on the floor. It stood still for a moment before scuttling across the floor and exploring the room.

"You know," Neville murmured thoughtfully, "you're right—it is kinda cute."

"For a piece of furniture," Harry agreed.


	2. Let's do the Time Warp Again!

I do not own Rocky Horror Picture Show or anything associated with it

Oswald the Ottoman

Chapter Two: Let's do the Time Warp Again!

Harry, along with several members of the order, had finally found the way into Voldemort's inner sanctum. It had taken a while, but it would all soon pay off—Voldemort would finally be destroyed…

Well, that had been the plan.

Voldemort had cut his monologue surprisingly short and Harry, reeling from the unexpected script change, panicked when he heard Voldemort yell the killing curse, wand trained right on the nose-piece of Harry's glasses.

So right before the moment of no return, one syllable away actually, Harry yelled the first spell he could think of…it happened to be one that was from that dark arts text that he wasn't supposed to even know existed. Well, if it got the job done, who were they to complain? Right?

Right?

Voldemort's wand hit the ground and he disappeared from sight, the room fell silent. Harry closed his eyes in relief, ducking his head, when he opened them a few moments later he remembered what the spell did.

The living furniture curse, Harry believed it was called. The spell transfigured the victim or fully deserving party into an animated piece of furniture, they still had their brain function…it was just trapped in a piece of furniture.

Or in this case, a rather small, leather ottoman, Voldemort's mind was currently trapped in an ottoman and he didn't seem to realize it because he was still waving one leg around as though he were holding a wand.

Someone began snickering, Harry glanced to see who it was and was surprised to see it was Snape…but he supposed if anyone deserved a laugh at the Dark Lord Ottoman's expense it would be Snape.

The silence still reigned despite Snape's laughter and Harry decided he should break the silence:

"Gives new meaning to 'shake a leg,' huh?"

Snape lapsed into full-blown laughter.

Harry had walked forward and picked up the outraged and confused ottoman and tucked it under his arm, flashing the Inner Circle a grin, "I'll just take this off your hands. God knows, this is way too refined a piece for the décor here, right Voldemort?"

The legs began kicking fervently, one leg pointing at Lucius Malfoy furiously.

Harry also snatched Voldemort's wand from the floor which sent the ottoman into furious kicking and pointing. Harry tucked it into his back pocket and looked around those gathered.

"Oh, god," Harry muttered, rubbing his chin, his wand propped lightly across his pinky and thumb, "I know I'm forgetting something…" Harry fixed his wand on the death eaters, "oh yeah—incendio!"

The battle was short lived, and the order came out on top, it seemed that Voldemort was the both the bark and the bite of his little club. And as said bite and bark was now a small footstool that happened to be trying to kick Harry in the side, there clearly wasn't much to be said about the former, wannabe evil, after-school project.

…of course, that's easy to say now…

Harry set about helping the aurors with taking all the former death eaters into custody, and once they were all lined and shackled up, Harry, with a furiously kicking and pointing ottoman tucked under his arm, looked them over.

"Well, kids," Harry sighed, in mock-disappointment, "sorry about busting your little organization…looks like you'll all have to join the chess club…of Azkaban."

A few aurors laughed mockingly, and began pushing the assembled prisoners out. When Harry thought of something else: "And don't worry Lucius! I'm sure you'll get voted head geek—I mean, club president!"

After that, Harry found himself being shuffled from press conference to press conference. Harry ended up hog-tying the ottoman and stuffing it under his chair in order to keep it from drawing attention to itself, after he realized the main question of the day was: "So You-Know-Who's really gone?!"

This tactic allowed Harry to smile brightly and give an empathic, resounding, "Yes, damnit! For the umpteenth time!" As he kicked the ottoman in order to keep it from getting any ideas.

Eventually, between venues, Harry had to tell Voldemort to behave or he would remove one of his legs.

Things went much more smoothly after that.

* * *

Later that night, Harry sat awake in his bed reading, making sure that Vol—_Oswald_ wouldn't try to attack any of his dorm mates. It had only taken _Oswald_ about five hours to realize that Harry was bigger, faster, and stronger than he—it?—was. 

The little ottoman had taken to pacing the perimeter of the room, stopping when it reached Harry's bed, presumably to figure out a way to kill him or something. Harry had never realized how useful being able to turn paper into felt would be, until after he'd flipped the ottoman over onto it's leathery back and glued little felt circles onto the bottom of its legs to keep the clicking of the wood on stone from driving him completely insane.

Harry looked down from his book and gave the ottoman an assessing look before declaring, "You know for being such an ugly shit when you were alive, you have some pretty nice upholstery."

The ottoman hid itself under his bed.

Harry decided it was up to something, but really…it was an _ottoman_.

* * *

And thanks bunches to everyone that reviewed, I wasn't expecting such a strong positive response!


	3. The Hogwarts Sex Trade Wants YOU!

Oswald the Ottoman

Chapter Three: The Hogwarts Sex Trade Wants YOU to Destroy Voldemort!

"Harry, I can't stand the way that thing looks at me!"

"It's not looking at you," Harry told Ginny soothingly. "It doesn't have eyes, it _can't_ look at you."

"I still don't like it, it gives me the creeps," Ginny replied, crossing her arms across her chest, blocking the pathway to her breasts that Harry had _just_ created. Harry groaned and put a few inches in-between them. Apparently, she wasn't trying to get some no-strings sex from him; apparently, Hermione had talked her into trying to talk some "sense" into him.

"It's an ottoman, Ginny," Harry replied, as he pulled his sweater back on, "as I've told Hermione several times."

Ooh, busted! Could Harry call it or what?

Ginny flushed and demanded after a too-long moment of thought, "What does Hermione have to do with anything?"

"I'm not going to get rid of _Oswald_," Harry huffed. "I've told you two a million times, he's harmless…as harmless as a fire hazard and late-night floor locating device can be."

Oswald walked around, quickly, in a small circle—a motion which Harry had discovered meant that he was feeling particularly smug. As if being an annoying stool was something to be pleased about.

Ginny huffed and said, "It's not even like it's useful! It won't even let you sit on it!"

Harry rolled his eyes and motioned to Oswald, "You'd have to be crazy to sit on a footstool that size! There's no way it could hold your weight!"

"_My_ weight?!" Ginny screeched in offense.

"Oh _god_!" Harry exclaimed in disgust, "Here we go!"

Ginny began ranting and Harry hopped off the bed and grabbed Oswald from his place on the floor, settling him under his arm, and headed over to the dorm door.

"Bye, Ginny, I'll be downstairs when you finish being a bitch…well, I guess you'll be up here a while then," Harry opened the door and left as Ginny began yelling at him in outrage. He slammed the door behind him.

Harry looked down at the ottoman under his arm, its legs were lazily kicking as it was now used to being carried around. Hell, Voldemort probably thought this was the high life: all he did was wander around all day with people looking after him constantly, mainly his former arch-nemesis, and he was carried most places…probably doing wonders for his already huge ego.

"And they thought _you_ were evil," Harry sighed and he headed downstairs, letting Oswald free once he reached the common room. Oswald immediately trotted away, presumably to find the group of second year girls who thought he was the cutest thing ever and would spend hours playing with him and petting him.

Yeah, Harry didn't understand it either…

Harry made his way over to Hermione and sat down next to her and replied, "So, Hermione, I think I might be gay."

Hermione blinked and looked up, her face extremely confused.

"Yeah, Ginny's just not doing it for me anymore…I was thinking since you were pimping her out to me, maybe you could send that cute fifth year Ravenclaw boy by sometime."

"I'm not pimping anything!" Hermione exclaimed in outrage.

"Really, because Ginny was just in my dorm offering me sex because you told her to…"

Hermione slammed her book shut and declared, "I have no idea what you're talking about! I have no control over Ginny's actions _and_ if you would just get rid of the damn ottoman then we would both leave you alone."

"Now, Hermione you know I can't do that," Harry replied. "I can't just get rid of Oswald, because god knows what a footstool, prone to illegal activities, could get up to if left without adult supervision. I'm honestly doing the world a great service by keeping Oswald."

"You disgust me!"

"And you know, the irony here is that you owe me your life because I created that ottoman."

"There is no irony in that! As long as that ottoman is running around—"

"Playing with little second year girls and plotting creative ways to trip Seamus," Harry finished, "he's not trying to eradicate most of the earth's population. By making that ottoman, I destroyed Voldemort, and as long as Oswald is here no one has anything to worry about."

There was a thud and shrieking girlish laughter.

"…Except being tripped."


	4. I Found Voldemort!

Oswald the Ottoman

Chapter Four: I Found Voldemort! ...He was in the Couch the Whole Time!

Later that week, Harry came down for breakfast, his shins freshly bruised and Oswald tucked under his arm…

Only to discover that the teachers were trying to prevent a huge panic, as they doused flames on the four house tables. Oswald took an immediate interest in the situation, one leg poking Harry's side, another pointing excitedly, his back legs stuck out straight.

"Well, I guess I'll eat in the kitchens," Harry informed the ottoman. Oswald protested wildly, pointing fervently to the chaos. "Oh, all right, we'll stay for a minute."

Harry hadn't made it into the room for a more than a few seconds before he stopped, knelt down and picked up a newspaper. He placed Oswald on the ground and said, "Let's see what the Prophet's done this time…"

Oswald braced his two front legs against one of Harry's, to assumingly see the newspaper better or something…

VOLDEMORT LIVES ON…POSSIBLY IN YOUR COUCH!!

The headline said.

Harry quickly scanned the rest of the article as Oswald ran around in excited circles before falling over and rolling onto his upholstery, legs flapping wildly. Apparently, someone cough-Hermione-and-Ginny-cough had leaked that Voldemort was still alive and living inside some furniture, but they hadn't specified what sort of furniture or where the alleged furniture was located: thus sending the entire wizarding world into a furniture-destroying panic.

Harry decided they were just going to have to get themselves out of this situation.

Besides this was probably the most fun he'd ever have.

"Come on, Oswald, I'm going to the kitchen," Harry called as he tossed the newspaper. "If you stay they'll probably try to burn you too."

Oswald obediently trotted after him, but he did pause once more before leaving the vicinity completely.

Now you might think that the story would end shortly after this, when some clever student, named Hermione, suggested to the school that perhaps, _perhaps_ Oswald was actually Voldemort and everyone would call for the ottoman's destruction and eventually overrule Harry's protection. Thus would finally end Voldemort's evil reign of terror as Hermione, triumphantly, chucked the little kicking footstool into a bonfire.

It would be completely logical to think this would follow, but as the entire Harry Potter series and, indeed, has shown us: people, in general, are not very logical.

Hermione did in fact, with Ginny's help, try to convince everyone that Oswald was Voldemort's evil incarnation. But in doing so, made a group of second year Gryffindor girls very, very angry and they, along with Harry and Neville's support drove this implausible idea from the minds of the students.

The next day's headline read:

VOLDEMORT SIGHTED IN CARPET!!!

Underneath it was a picture of a vaguely face-shaped stain on a carpet. Harry skimmed the article as he munched on his bagel next to Hermione, who was not-so-quietly fuming.

"Well, look here Hermione," Harry said pleasantly, "Mrs. Bangle apparently dropped her coffee and they rushed to clean it up, but stopped when they realized that the stain appeared to look like a face. After studying it for a while, they realized it had to be Voldemort…which is complete rubbish, I happen to know for a fact that he did not look like that, I distinctly recall him not having a nose…or lips for that matter, scales instead of skin, didn't really have eyelids either…would that technically mean that he didn't have a face?"

"Harry," Hermione said firmly and rationally, "this has got to stop."

"No, I think this is a great way to find were Voldemort is hiding out," Harry replied brightly, "I mean eventually, some coffee stain will look like Voldemort, and then we will know."

"What will we know?" Hermione demanded.

Harry blinked thoughtfully for a moment and then said, "You know, I don't even remember," he finished off his bagel and stood up. "I'll see you in class, Hermione."

* * *

Hermione was _fed up_.

Indeed, she had had _quite_ _enough_ of this nonsense.

She met with Ginny later that night in the common room. They sat down in on secluded couch, after kicking a fourth year couple off of it.

"I'm going to do it, Ginny," Hermione declared, "I can't take any more of this."

"Are you sure?" Ginny asked, alarmed, as the drapes caught on fire, "Don't you think it's too drastic?"

"Drastic times call for drastic measures," Hermione replied, firmly as a piece of paper hit her head. "And this is a drastic time."

"When are you going to do it?"

Hermione sighed and replied, "I'm going to give Harry two weeks and then, then I'll have no choice."

"Hermione," Ginny said seriously, her eyes gleaming with admiration, despite the fact a kid nearby to her now had green hair, "you're the bravest woman I know."

"I'm only doing what I must, Ginny," Hermione replied, "You'll understand, later."

"I hope so, you're my hero," Ginny replied, "Shall we begin preparations?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, her eyes fixed on Oswald the Ottoman as she slammed her fist down into her hand, "yes, we shall."

There was a small explosion and suddenly the common room was filled with bright orange smoke.


	5. A Little Bump in the Night?

Oswald the Ottoman

Chapter Five: A Little Bump in the Night?

Harry had to buy a new trunk after he'd realized that Crookshanks had taken to sleeping in it and used the side of it as a scratching post. He'd only noticed because Oswald had knocked on his bed in order to wake him and pointed fervently at the hole Crookshanks had just finished scratching through.

Harry had stared, tiredly, at the smug cat before patting Oswald's upholstery and saying, "Good job."

Harry then went back to bed.

Silence reigned for a moment.

Then Harry jumped out of bed and ran over to his trunk, pulling Crookshanks who was yowling something furious at being removed from his bed. After the cat scratched him for the eighth time Harry began cursing and tossed Crookshanks out into the stairwell.

Crookshanks darted back in before Harry could fully shut the door, and Oswald pounced. He landed across Crookshanks back, grabbed on with two legs and began kicking at the cat with the other two, Crookshanks began yowling louder and ran, panicked, around the room.

Crookshanks darted for the door, Harry threw it open and Crookshanks was gone, his yowls echoing around the tower.

Oswald was walking triumphantly around in a circle.

"What. The. Hell?" Ron demanded in disbelief, his head sticking out of his curtains.

Harry had no words, so he didn't respond.

The next day, as a reward, Harry took Oswald with him to go trunk-shopping.

Oswald was terribly excited to be surrounded by various leather-covered objects.

Harry decided that being an Ottoman had gone to Voldemort's head.

Harry paid him little attention, which resulted in him being tripped by an over-excited Oswald at least four times, and continued looking for a good trunk. Suddenly Oswald stopped in front of him, and Harry just barely managed to save his shins.

Oswald stood in front of a very handsome leather trunk, legs splayed out beneath him like an over-excited terrier called to attention.

"You like this one, huh?" Harry asked, walking up to examine the trunk, Oswald bounced around and pointed excitedly to the trunk. Harry pulled the trunk from its place and began examining, when he threw the lid of it off, Oswald's legs collapsed and he rolled over onto his upholstery. Harry blinked and muttered, "You're so weird."

After that there was little more Harry could say to Oswald as he was accosted by a salesman who very excitedly told him that Voldemort had been sighted in that trunk.

Harry ended up buying it.

And, it wasn't because of Voldemort! It had multiple magical compartments…Oswald fell limp on the floor when Harry carried it to the register.

Harry had it shipped to the dorm and he emptied out his old trunk and chased Oswald around as he stole Harry's clothes and hid them under furniture that Harry was too large to reach under. And whenever Harry would lean over, hard points would prod into his back as Oswald pounced onto his back and paraded around until Harry tossed him off again.

Finally it got so annoying that Harry had to seize Oswald and place him on top of a wardrobe that was too tall for him to jump off of.

Harry soon learned, by way of direct aerial attack, that this was where Seamus stashed his porn.

When Oswald's _arse_nal did not show any sign of dwindling after thirty minutes, Harry jumped up onto a nearby desk and pulled a kicking Oswald from his fortress by one leg and threw him into his old trunk. Harry slammed the lid shut and pushed the holey side up against the wall.

Harry decided this would make a nice gift for Hermione.

* * *

Neville was trimming his new flutterby bush when he heard a soft shuffling noise; he quickly looked around, thinking Oswald was planning an ambush. The noise repeated and Neville garnered his courage and tried to locate the origin of the sound.

His ears led him over to Harry's old trunk, which he claimed was a gift for Hermione; Neville knew it was ruined so he couldn't understand why Harry would be do that.

Neville slowly opened the lid of the trunk and found himself staring face to upholstery with Oswald. Oswald shuffled about and Neville felt for the poor thing, it had probably been locked in there since last night.

"Come here, little guy, I'll get you out," Neville said, nicely to Oswald and carefully picked him up and set him on the floor. "I was just pruning some of my new plants…say, Oswald, would you mind helping me?"

Oswald looked skeptical.

It was amazing how an inani—animate object could pull of such a complex expression.

"Well, if you would like, you could hold some of my tools for me," Neville went on, "I'd be really careful to make sure they wouldn't puncture your upholstery, and no soil would get on you, of course."

Oswald trotted off under the desk to bide his time.

"Okay," Neville said, with slight disappointment, "but if you get bored or change your mind, you know where I am."

Boredom soon got to Oswald and within fifteen minutes he'd trotted back over and stood next to Neville, holding himself so he looked rather sturdy and stool-like. Neville smiled friendlily and retrieved several tools from their case and carefully laid them out across Oswald's upholstery.

The pruning went on for about an hour, and Neville quite enjoyed having a good semi-flat surface to rest his tools on. He normally had to retrieve each tool from his toolbox which led to his back aching. This was _much_ better.

Oswald trotted along behind Neville, listening to the boy explain the properties of each plant and slowly an idea formed in his stuffing.

Neville hummed as his finished tending his final plant.

Yes, Oswald decided, that plan would work nicely.

* * *

Something strange began happening in the dorm, every night they would go to bed and everything would be in its proper place. But when they woke up all of Neville's plants had somehow been moved across the room to surround Harry's new trunk.

Neville even went so far as to putt he plants on top of the wardrobe, which resulted in small sprigs of the plants appearing around Harry's trunk.

"Maybe," Neville suggested, "it's not leather-leather, but maybe it's the skin of some sort of magical plant loving creature."

Harry looked extremely skeptical of this, and Oswald frolicked around the trunk, before jumping on top of it and walking in circles.

Yes, being an ottoman had definitely gone to Oswald's head. This is exactly how Harry imagined a leather ottoman would act around a leather trunk.

"Well, what do you think Harry—about what I said?"

"I don't know, Neville…noticed any of skin missing?" Harry inquired. Oswald jumped down off the trunk, circled Harry's and then Neville's legs and then began rubbing his upholstery against the trunk's casing.

"Maybe Voldemort's inside the trunk," Seamus suggested. His tone half-joking and half-serious.

Oswald left the trunk to poke at Harry's leg and point feverishly at Seamus.

"Yes, Oswald, he's an idiot, I'd noticed," Harry told the ottoman, sweetly, and then he turned to Seamus and responded, "Don't you try to start up that bullshit with me, this trunk was expensive."

"And appears to have a plant fetish," Ron added.

"Be that as it may," Harry replied, "it's not doing anyone any harm…yet, and I'm hungry. Come on Oswald, let's get some breakfast."

Oswald trotted obediently after Harry.

The boys in the dorm could tell when the hit the common room from all of the adolescent girls' squealing.


	6. This Life Can Turn a Good Girl Bad

Oswald the Ottoman

Chapter Six: This Life Can Turn a Good Girl Bad

"I just don't know what to do!" Hermione cried, for once not talking about Oswald. "Crookshanks just won't sleep! He keeps us all awake and he keeps yowling—"

"Like a bitch in heat," Parvati added crudely, "I think Hermione should have it put down."

"That's animal cruelty!" Hermione exclaimed, horrified, and in much the same tone she added, "Harry! Get that thing off the table!"

"What's wrong with Oswald, Hermione?" Parvati demanded, "It's not like Voldemort's in there."

"Yeah, Hermione," Harry agreed, smirking, as he stroked Oswald's upholstery, "it's not like Voldemort's in there."

Hermione's face screwed up into rage, "Harry Potter! I have half a mind to—"

"Besides, I know why Crookshanks hasn't been sleeping," Harry replied.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really," Harry replied, "and if you come by the dorm later, I'll show you why _and_ give you something that will help him sleep."

Hermione looked skeptical, but the power of sleep deprivation compelled her.

"Fine, I'll come by after classes."

"Excellent," Harry replied with a smile as he stroked Oswald.

* * *

"So, what is it you wanted to give me?" Hermione asked as she entered the dorm.

"That," Harry replied, pointing over his old trunk.

"Why on earth would you give me your old trunk?" Hermione asked, looking confused.

"Well, I figured I would give it to you because it's apparently where Crookshanks has been sleeping," Harry replied, "Besides, it's completely ruined, why would I want it."

"It doesn't look completely ruined," Hermione replied, skeptically.

"Well, it is, maybe you should check the inside and see," Harry replied and he tossed the last of his robes into his new trunk.

Hermione flipped the trunk opened and Oswald flew out looking like Super(otto)man!

Harry threw out his arm and pointed, yelling, "Projectile ottoman!" Just as Oswald hit Hermione's chest and sent the both falling to the ground.

"That's it Harry!" Hermione yelled in outrage, completely unharmed, "This has gone on long enough! If you aren't going to cease this madness then I will!"

Hermione reached under her skirt and pulled out a foot longer!

…Knife.

A foot long knife.

Harry stared and demanded, "How the hell did that fit up there?"

"A regulation Hogwarts skirt goes from waist to knee, which in my case is exactly 21 inches, more than enough room to hide a knife of this size," Hermione replied, "but of course, it's simply not practical for me to carry this on my person at all times, so I created a portal—"

"There's a magical portal up your skirt?!" Harry demanded, staring at Hermione in a _completely_ new way.

"There's a magic portal up every girl's skirt," Hermione replied smugly.

"This is like the scariest sex ed class I've never had," Harry declared, looking suitably freaked out.

Oswald, of course, was no less freaked out.

Suddenly Hermione remembered her purpose! She spun around to look at Oswald and raised the knife, declaring, "Your reign of terror ends now Voldemort!"

She advanced on the small ottoman, frozen in place in terror.

"Wait, wait," Harry exclaimed, "let me get this straight, since I didn't get the new script I don't know exactly what all's going on here—and apparently you forgot your monologue, so…"

"Monologue!" Hermione exclaimed in outrage, spinning around to glare at Harry, hands on her hip the knife jutting out threateningly, "I'm _so_ not the bad person here! You have had the perfect chance to kill Voldemort since you've turned him into an ottoman and have you? No! So clearly, someone must make up for your epic failure at life and finish the job! I'm going to destroy this evil the best way one can ruin any piece of furniture!"

Hermione turned around and brandished the knife once more.

"Wait, so cats? You're going to set Crookshanks on him?" Harry asked, "But then why do you have the knife?"

Hermione sighed in exasperation, and explained, "Harry, I'm going to stab open his upholstery and rip out his stuffing."

Harry looked completely shocked.

"You can't do that!"

"Oh, I am going to!" Hermione declared firmly, in a way that only a petulant two year old…and Hermione…can pull off. She spun around and seized Oswald from the floor, immediately halting his attempted escape.

Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Hermione, "Let him go, now!"

"No! Never!" Hermione yelled and then, before Harry could stop her, she sliced into Oswald's nice leather upholstery and stabbed a few more times, just for good measure.

She then dropped Oswald who was no longer moving.

Harry dropped to his knees and scooped up Oswald's wooden frame and stuffing.

"Hold on, little guy," Harry said emotively, his eyes tearing up, "I'll get you re-upholstered immediately…I'll even let you pick out the fabric—just don't die!"

Then the door to the dorm was thrown open and Snape stood there, he looked over the scene silently for a few moments: taking in Hermione's cotton-covered knife and Harry crying over Oswald and promptly fell out of the doorway, laughing hysterically.

McGonagall took his place and demanded, "What is going on here!"

"She," Harry sobbed, "she killed Oswald!"

"Good job, Miss Granger!" McGonagall exclaimed brightly.

"Good job?!" Harry exclaimed in outrage, "Good job?! She's a murderer!"

"Well, just think, Mr. Potter, if you had just killed Voldemort like you were supposed to then she wouldn't be a murderer."

Harry stared at her and asked, "Do you even know how hypocritical that sounds?"

Harry completely fed-up with the situation, pushed himself to his feet and ran to Hogsmeade, hoping to find someone that could reupholster Oswald...hopefully before he died.


	7. Ccccchanges! And 19 Days Later

Oswald the Ottoman

Chapter Seven: C-c-c-c-c-changes!

It had been a long night, that night. Harry went knocking from door to door on each of the furniture, fabric, and seamstress' doors in Hogsmeade, hoping to find someone who could save Oswald who was fading fast and loosing small bits of cotton through his torn upholstery.

Finally, at 12…minutes after seven, Harry found a fabric store and a woman who would reupholster Oswald for a kind of reasonable sum of money. Harry didn't really have time to haggle.

This was a shame…he was sure, in retrospect, that he could've gotten the job done for at least 4 sickles less.

The woman tore the ruined fabric off of Oswald's frame, and followed that by the kinda see through stuff the was used on the bottom to keep the stuffing in—whatever that stuff was called.—it had gotten sliced as well. Harry was looking over the yards of fabric trying to decide, under duress, what Oswald would like to be reupholstered with.

There was velvet, suede, and various other impractical fabrics for furniture.

The woman pointed him over to the upholstery section.

There Harry was attacked by various horrid old-lady type patterns that—though it would be funny to see Oswald upholstered with them—Harry could probably not stand to see day in and day out.

Oh, how terrible this situation was!!!

Never before had Harry been faced with so many choices! How was he supposed to choose something without Dumbledore and, indeed, _fate_ telling him what to do?!

And then Harry realized…this _was_ normal, this was what normal people had to deal with! Normal people either had to reupholster furniture or buy new pieces! And if normal people could stare down these choices and actually pick something then Harry, transfigurer of the most evil dark lord ever, could too!

These thoughts reminded Harry of even more choices he had to make, and could indeed make without anyone's involvement! Why he could pick where he wanted to live, who he wanted to live with, who he could marry, what he could name his kids! This was the most amazing epiphany Harry had ever had, and it was all thanks to Voldemort!

Harry turned away from the boring upholstery and began to rummage for something cool and worthy of the greatest evil the world had ever known.

And after this he would find a cool apartment somewhere cool and live there—with Oswald, and maybe Neville—if Neville could get less smelly plants and stop snoring as much, because he didn't _have_ to live with Ron and Hermione—he could live with whoever and whatever he wanted to, damnit!

Well, he would live with Oswald if the little guy could make it through the night…Harry rummaged faster.

* * *

Epilogue: 19 Days Later

Harry folded up the day's newspaper which touted that Voldemort had been sighted in an 18th century writing desk. Harry wished he had a small piece of furniture to share the wizarding world's randomness with.

Harry sighed and turned to glare at Hermione, and then he decided to pay that one second year to flick porridge at her again. That second year had really good aim.

Harry made eye contact with the second year and nodded firmly.

Porridge went flying.

With laser guided precision, god that second year was amazing. That kid was going to grow up and kill people, and Harry would hide under a couch because it wouldn't be his problem anymore.

Harry, feeling very pleased, with himself, decided to re-read his homework, when he was suddenly attacked by an owl.

Figuratively speaking.

Harry took the letter from the owl and read over it. He'd gotten the apartment he'd wanted, at an extremely low rate (of course he didn't ask for it! Why on Earth would he, Harry Potter, even _think _of using his fame for something like that!)

Feeling suddenly elated Harry decided he had to share this good news with his future and current roommate. He jumped up and quickly made his way back up to the Gryffindor dorms.

Once there he threw the door open, exclaiming, "Great news! We got the—are those Neville's plants?"

Oswald froze where he was. Sure enough those were Neville's plants, they'd only just put them back! But there they were surrounding Harry's trunk again.

Then Harry noticed something even more disturbing:

"Are you humping my trunk?!"

Oswald remained frozen in place.

Silence reigned in the dorm, as Harry realized that Oswald must have somehow been moving the plants every night…in some sort of weird trunk courtship ritual?!

This was _crazy_!

CRAZY!

Harry swallowed, turned away and said, "No, no, you're right, I shouldn't have even asked. I'll tell you about the flat later."

And then he shut the door.

...but really, Harry would tap that too.


End file.
